Confessions of an Ex-Stripper

Playing to every man’s fantasy wasn’t exactly a dream of mine, but now that I’ve done it, I’m glad I did. Dancing topless for a group of guys with perma-grins and wads of one dollar bills (or even better—expense accounts!) can make a girl feel sexy, alluring, and alive. Raking in over a grand a night is even better.

I became a stripper twenty years ago after a topless club moved in next door to where I waitressed part-time. Back then, I was also a really shitty stock broker. After easing in as a cocktail server at the strip club, I quickly lost my inhibitions about taking off my clothes for money and began dancing. While I loved all of the attention, the real draw was the appeal of being a shrewd business woman and independent contractor. Where by day I was busy hustling folks to buy stocks and bonds so I could keep three cents on the dollar, by night I was holding on to over 90% of the profits I made on stage or at the tables. When the boys from the firm came into the club, I loved making them pay. They felt guilty because I was stripping for living. I felt empowered because I knew how to feed on that guilt.

Another way I made money at the club was by figuring out common fantasies and putting those fantasies into action. Men love girl-on-girl action, so my friend Jasmine and I would undress each other on stage. We unzipped each other’s dresses, unclasped one another’s bras, and gently touched each other playfully while keeping an eye out for the men enjoying the show. Long before they sold dirty underwear in vending machines in Japan, I recognized how Japanese business men loved the smell of pussy—so I would go upstairs, change my G-string, wrap my hair in it, and proceed to sell it to them—along with a dance, of course.